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44 - Zach Galifianakis. Funniest man alive. Of course, I feel like a tool writing this on my bl ... Internet Journal. Nevertheless, I'm no Zach Galifianakis.

45 - Ask Body Spray. And if you don't get that joke, then you're not a racist.

46 - As he was going off about how he lives in a hip part of Brooklyn, where all the hipsters live with their too-skinny jeans and ironic moustaches, Zach Galifianakis fights the urge daily to yell out - jumping up and down in giddy fashion, while the hipsters stand around looking hip inside the underground subway as the light of the train gets bigger and brighter from the tunnel - "Hey everybody, here comes the choo-choo!"

47 - That's when he did, as he often does, where he'll bring someone he just met up on stage, this time being singer St. Vincent, of the aforementioned P.J. Harvey/Sasha Grey lovechild variety, who did her rendition of "Hey everybody, here comes the choo-choo." Then, they got half of the crowd to sing along with her (my half) and the other half to go "Chugga-chugga Chugga-chugga" louder and louder. It was magical.

48 - Almost as magical as the dumbshits who continually yelled out shit. I never understand the mentality; "I'm gonna go to this comedy show, interrupt the comic's train of thought, the comic who I paid to see, because I want him to make fun of me. Professionally." Some comics are able to block it out for the most part; some take it in stride; and some take the bait. I couldn't tell you what I enjoy the best, because on the one hand I like it when they dress down some douchenozzle. On the other, you're just vindicating their douchenozzleness and encouraging future douchenozzles to act upon their douchenozzle impulses. Either way, Patton Oswalt on his album really laid into someone and that was the most devistating attack I've ever heard.

49 - TV on the Radio. I'm not gonna lie to you, I was on the hill for probably 20 minutes of this show, max. I'm just not that big of a fan. And I don't know why.

50 - Overpriced food. $8 personal pizzas from Dominoes. $9 chicken strips and fries. $6 regular sized hotdogs.

51 - Scarfing down that food before indulging in 151 & Cokes for the second straight day.

52 - So, I made my drinks a little stronger on this day. TV on the Radio started at 6:35, but I didn't actually get around to seeing them until 7:00 or so. Instead of spreading out the 151 over multiple drinks and multiple hours; I pretty much crammed it into two drinks, in maybe 3 or 4 hours.

53 - NIN. Nine Inch Motherfucking Nails. This is the reason I went to Sasquatch. Well, the fact that they're talking about this being Nine Inch Nails' farewell tour - coupled with the fact that I've never seen Nine Inch Nails live - coupled with the fact that I've been maybe a little TOO into this band going well over 15 years - coupled with the fact that anyone who's a fan has said at least five hundred times in their lives, "You have to see them live!"

54 - I don't think I'm speaking out of turn here when I say that this is the second greatest concert I've ever been to, behind only The Flaming Lips the first time I saw them in 2005, again at Sasquatch. They played "Metal", "Somewhat Damaged" and "Burn" which are three of my favorite songs. Also: March of the Pigs, Becoming, I Do Not Want This, Fragile, Hurt, Wish, Gave Up, Terrible Lie, Down In A Hole ... the list goes on and on.

55 - And they DIDN'T play Closer. Fuck you, half-ass fans!

56 - And they didn't play Mr. Self Destruct. OK, that's a little frowny face from me.

57 - So, there was this fat woman sitting down in front of me when I ambled my way over to the spot I would stand before the show. I'd say 15 minutes before NIN went on, the fat woman stood up. And she, was, huge. Like, tall huge. Like, taller than me. Fuck, I hate it when I'm behind tall fucking people. Anyway, she would go on to start recording the show by holding up a little recording device.

58 - A word to those who are reading: concerts are fucking loud. You can hold that shit down by your side and get the same effect as holding it right in my fucking line of sight.

59 - Anyway, she was shaking her flabby arm back and forth, nearly connecting with my face a few times. It was enough to get irritated, if I wasn't already starting to feel my buzz, it might have come to blows. Fortunately, I let my passive aggression take over. When I got excited, I started to jump up and down. A lot. Really high and for long periods of time. Sometimes, I might have accidentally bumped into her (and others around me). And I would sing along with Trent Reznor. I would sing loud; scream, really. Like I was 14 again. Anyway, I don't know if I ruined her recording, but I don't fucking much care. I had a fucking ball.

60 - Jane's Addiction. The other reason I came. Another one of my all-time early 90s favorite bands. Probably the best band who ever came out of that era and ended before their time. Then again, there's probably a reason why the greatest bands end before their time; look to the album "Strays" for your answer here.

61 - I made myself my final drink of the weekend between NIN and JA. Ninja. Yes. Anyway, I walked all around, could only find Diet Coke, then said "Fuck it" and poured the last half of the 151 bottle in with the diet coke. I remember Jane's opened with "Three Days" and then I don't remember anything after that, songwise. I can speculate. Stop. Jane Says. Been Caught Stealin'. Ocean Size. Ain't No Right. Ted, Just Admit It. Summertime Rolls. I bet I'm not that far off.

62 - The long stumble home. I fell down a lot. My leg looks pretty mangled. I remember some guy helped direct me to Section 1. Then, there was taking a shit in the Port-A-Potty and puking a pesto-like substance in the urinal at the same time. I'm sure my campmates enjoyed that one. I woke up in my tent, in my long johns with nothing else on.

63 - The hangover. My tent was killing me because Day 3 was the hottest day of the weekend. But, I couldn't sit up. Couldn't really drink. Couldn't pee. I heard music going on in the distance before I was able to unzip my tent flap all the way.

64 - Missing Deerhoof. At 12:55

65 - Missing Black Moth Super Rainbow. At 1:40

66 - Missing Santigold. At 2:50

67 - I finally got up and moving around after chugging the bulk of my gallon of water, then carrying the rest with me. I finished the water by the time I made it to the cheap convenience mart outside of the venue. Bought another water bottle and went outside for another sit break.

68 - People more fucked up than me. I was grunting on my walk, so loudly, that girls were visibly frightened. I couldn't close my mouth or walk in anything but a stumble. I thanked some people who complimented my tattoo in a weary yelp. So, on my sit break, I was heartened to see this group of 20-somethings carefully lower their lady friend to the ground under the shade of a tree. She was out, cold. They rolled her on her side, and one guy poured water on her to keep her cool. They were there for a good half hour - along with me, mind you, this was quite a sit break - until most of the group broke off for the venue. I made my exit a few minutes later.

69 - When someone tosses you a potato and says, "Hot Potato", you fucking throw that thing to someone else and keep it moving! You do NOT throw the hot potato back to the person who threw it to you. Learn the rules!

70 - The Whitest Kids U Know. Yes, more comedy to start my day. They do sketch, they have a show on IFC that I'm going to check out now, and they were pretty fucking funny.

71 - Gogol Bordello. Main stage. Almost as awesome as the ice cream bar I got while I was all the way at the bottom. He did do "Start Wearing Purple" though, so that capped off a quality show.

71 - Fleet Foxes. I didn't really watch them. I mostly used their main stage show as an excuse to go up to the far left corner (facing the stage) and take a well-deserved nap in some shade. Fleet Foxes are cool napping music and that's about all they're good for.

72 - Silversun Pickups. Where did the time go? It's already 6:10pm and I've seen one comedy show and a half of a music show! SP (not Smashing Pumpkins, oddly enough) were OK. I did like them the first time when they were called ... all right, that's enough.

73 - Girl Talk. The man, seems like a cool dude. The artist, sure as shit knows how to mix a fine song. The show, was irritating as shit.

74 - Let's call a spade a spade, it was a Douchebag Convention. I can appreciate the nuances and the music and the work involved, mostly because I've heard of most of the music he plays with and I marvel at the concoctions he comes up with. D-bags, however, like to get drunk and flop around and call it dancing; they like to pretend they're black people and totally get their wigger on; they like it when he uses "Whoomp There It Is" not because it's ironic, but because they once totally fucking loved the actual song "Whoomp There It Is" and probably have it on their iPod shuffle as we speak!

75 - Oh, and let's not forget the group of centralized D-bags who held up a sign for the entire show. No, it wasn't meant for Girl Talk, it was a name - a first name and a last name - of some D-bag friend of theirs who they were trying to locate. By holding up a fucking sign, in my line of sight, for the whole fucking show.

76 - I'm going to be honest, I think Girl Talk captured lightning in a bottle with his last album, but I heard some of his earlier stuff and it's not that good. It's boring and straight-forward and not clever and the transitions are rubbish. I think it's cool that he can really get the party going live, but it didn't blow me away by any means.

77 - And no amount of toilet paper, or giant plastic balls, or giant inflatable whales will change my mind. You're no Underworld and you never will be.

78 - OK, so that rant was brought to you by the fact that I was sober while watching Girl Talk, and hungover, and the drunk D-bags around me wouldn't have been so D-baggish had I been intoxicated.

79 - Missing out on Erykah Badu. She probably sucked.

80 - Missing out on Ben Harper. Seen him already!

81 - Explosions In The Sky. I was only there at Girl Talk - and only stayed for the whole entire Douchebag Convention - because I wanted to get a good spot for Explosions In The Sky. Both played the Wookie Stage, which isn't ideal, because you have to actually stand when you're hungover.

82 - My guess is, never the twain shall meet between the fans of Girl Talk and the fans of Explosions In The Sky. As a result, I was feeling a much better vibe around me.

83 - "We don't want to bum you out. We want to bliss you out." That was one of the guitarist's declarations going into the show, realizing they would have to follow the massive excess that was Girl Talk. Bliss out they did.

84 - I'm not gonna lie to you, I'm not their hugest fan ever. I could recognize most of the songs they played, but not their titles. They play instrumental music for instrumental-minded people like myself. Long and emotional and powerful. Three guitarists and a drummer; and all that sound as a result.

85 - Ending after an hour. For as great as they were - and indeed, let this be known here and now, I ONLY bought the Day 3 ticket for this band - I was ready to leave. The Dance Tent was still bumping; the main stage was still pounding out Ben Harperisms; but I had enough. Sure I could've partaken in some final grasp at music bliss, but why bother? When Explosions In The Sky capped things off better than anyone else could have. They should've been on the main stage. I hope they come out with an album soon, since they're only doing, like, three concerts all year.

86 - Brisk Walk Home. I made mince meat out of that walk. Since the majority of the people still at the festival were inside the venue, I made tracks!

87 - No line of cars to get out. Instead of packing, I essentially just threw all of my shit - even the tent, unrolled - into the backseat of my car. While I was hungover earlier in the day. So, at night, all I had to do was walk over, get in the car, and start driving.

88 - The Drive Home. Not as tranquil as the ride there. Probably because it was dark. And because it was windy as fuck and I had trouble keeping my car straight. And mostly because of I-90

89 - What the fuck, I-90? You call yourself a major freeway? How about someone paints some fucking lines on the road so when I'm driving home at fucking midnight after three days of music and heat-&-alcohol-&-sleep-deprivation-induced fatigue, in the fucking dark, I don't drive my fucking car off the side of the fucking road. I'm not saying I did that, but I came close. If a cop followed me home, he would've pulled me over about 59 times for swerving too much.

90 - Getting in at 12:45am. Last year, I think I was home by 3am. That's the sliver tuna of the whole trip.

91 - Pre-bed shower. I was dirty as fuck. I had slept on the ground inside the venue. I had sweated and puked and bled my way through a fucking weekend. There was no way in hell I was going to sleep in my clean apartment bed without a nice long shower or a fucking blowtorch.

92 - Calling in 2-hours late at 1am, leaving a weary message on my boss's work voicemail.

93 - Sleeping in until 9am and getting to work by 10am.

94 - The runs. I still have them, two days later. I ate a salad for lunch, let's see what that does for me.

Now, the loose ends:

95 - Street Sweeper Social Club. Bought a t-shirt. That was the only bit of souvenier I got out of the deal. It's a picture of a boombox with two rolling machine gun barrels protruding out of the speakers. Fucking rad.

96 - "I Heart Boys". That's what it said on the ass of some girl's bikini bottom. It rode in her crack just a hair, and left two perfect mounds of ass cleavage hanging out of the bottom. Best ass of the weekend by far. Not that I would ever stare incessantly at such a thing.

97 - Cigarettes. Two packs of Natural American Spirit menthols got me through. I can't NOT smoke at a music festival. That's like asking me to stop masturbating while thinking about random bikini-clad asses I've seen.

98 - The Guide To Sasquatch. I got it in the Stranger the week before and it WAS my guide. Had the lineups, a brief description of all the bands, and a map of the grounds. That thing was opened and used so much, it's almost reverted all the way back to pulp. Also, cargo shorts and cut-off t-shirts. D-bags may primarily wear them, but I like to think I'm the exception to the rule. Plus, my tattoos aren't remotely tribal, so I win. And tons of pockets are handy as fuck when you've got tons of shit to carry around and you need two free hands to brace your fall when you're stumbling drunk. And my phone is still broken, yet functioning. Only in America! Only at Sasquatch could I break a phone nearly every time I attend!

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